


so run away from me (run as far as your dark brown eyes can see)

by jbhmalum



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: (my tags: matching my personality by being a mess), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Addiction, Drunk Sex, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, NOT between michael and calum, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, but most of iit is talked about like don't read this for smut it's not what this is, hmm these tags make it sound like there's a lot of sex stuff, michael has sex with ill-intentioned people, michael is a mess in this i'm so sorry for doing that to him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26550325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbhmalum/pseuds/jbhmalum
Summary: “Maybe you should take back your key. I keep bothering you and you don’t deserve that,” he whispers through his tears and Calum’s hand on his face freezes. “Maybe you should even drop me altogether. I’m no good for you. For anybody, really. I’m a wreck, your life would be so much easier without me. And since no one else actually cares about me, I guess I should just end-”“Stop right there,” Calum cuts him off, voice hard, and his grip on Michael’s jaw tightens. “I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that, you hear me? I love you. You’re my whole life. You know I’d rather have you like that than not at all."*or: Michael and Calum are in love. It should be that simple. Michael is also a drug addict and drinks too much, so really, nothing is simple at all.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin - background, Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	so run away from me (run as far as your dark brown eyes can see)

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone here i come at you with this heartbreaking story. it's certainly heartbreaking to me. this fic means a LOT to me i love it as much as i hate it.
> 
> so this was prompted to me by my love [shal](https://wheniminouterspace.tumblr.com/). she basically prompted the title of this fic and the song [tribulation](https://open.spotify.com/track/2CCy0wnJTtUIMoHpmGRcwM) it is from. i wrote most of this at the end of July and only came back to it very recently to finish it so i'm sorry it took so long!!
> 
> btw none of this has ever happened to me this is just my nightmare like literally i hate/am triggered by and/or am scared of most of these things. so this was kinda hard to write for that reason but in the end i decided to approach it as catharsis and an outlet to pour my hate for all these things into and left with 15k words...
> 
> i did a lot of research but there might still be stuff that's not 100% correct but i did my best. also i hope you guys are okay enough that you wouldn't recognize any mistake about that sort of thing. AND i didn't write this to be the most accurate description of drug and alcohol abuse, i wrote because i was feeling a lot of... things.
> 
> please PLEASE read the tags and if you have any questions before or after reading you can find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jbhmalum). same if you think this should have more tags!

When Michael stumbles into Calum’s apartment at eight in the morning, he’s high. And drunk. No, drunk doesn't feel right. He’s absolutely wasted, and he would fall over if he weren’t leaning on the walls as he makes his way to his friend’s bedroom. They’re nice walls. He knows they’re kinda ugly and need to be painted again because the apartment is old, but they hold the roof on top of Calum’s head, so they’re nice. Calum needs a roof. Everybody does, he reckons. But Calum especially. Also he likes these walls better than his own. Should he thank them for being this nice? That would be weird. Wouldn’t it?

“Michael?”

He jumps at the rough morning voice only to realize it’s just Calum. Obviously. Who else would it be in Calum's house? Stupid brain. He turns around towards the voice, where Calum is leaning against the doorway to his room. Michael frowns as he realizes he’s standing in the living room. Oh well, guess he missed the turn to the bedroom.

“Hi Cal,” he slurs.

“Jesus,” his friend sighs, rubbing his eyes, “do you even know what time it is?”

Michael shrugs. He does, or at least he has a vague idea, but he doesn’t see why it’s relevant right now. “I came to say hi. I need a hug.”

He actually does, the night has treated him nicely enough, but he's missed his friend, so he doesn’t wait for Calum’s response and takes a step towards him. Sure enough, he trips on his own feet and ends up sprawled on the floor after hitting his shoulder against a chair for good measure. He vaguely hears Calum curse before his face appears next to Michael’s as he crouches down. He’s pretty, Michael muses to himself, even if he looks like he just woke up (which is probably Michael’s fault). His bed hair makes him extremely adorable, and his tired face looks kissable. It always does, if Michael’s being honest, and he kind of wants to say it out loud and put his lips on it. He likes kissing Calum. Among other things. Calum speaks before he can say anything and get rejected.

“Where were you?”

“None of your business. Help me up, I want a hug.”

“It _is_ my business when you wake me up this early on a Sunday morning, looking shitfaced and fucking falling over. You’re lucky I love you, otherwise I would take my key back.”

He helps Michael up either way, gives him a quick hug before helping him to the bathroom and sitting him on the toilet. Michael teases him about wanting more hugs because that one was terrible as Calum cleans his face and makes him drink some water. Calum ignores him, which hurts no matter how much he tells himself it doesn't, then helps him to his room.

“So. Where the fuck were you last night? And what did you take?”

Now he sounds annoyed and _serious_ , and Michael doesn’t feel like teasing anymore as he curls up on the still warm bed. The sheets smell good, a mixture of freshly cleaned fabric and something that's undeniable _Calum_ , spicy and warm, but Michael can’t even appreciate it. He doesn’t feel high enough anymore. Just kinda drunk. He looks Calum in the eyes as his own start to water. Fucking traitors always do that when he comes down from the crash.

“Can you just leave it? Please? Just this time.”

Calum glares at him. “You know I won’t, stop trying.”

Michael sighs, because it’s true. He won’t let him go to sleep before he’s told him. “I was at some guy’s place downtown. Don’t know him. I just drank a lot. Did coke mostly. Probably something else I can’t remember.”

He looks down this time, hides his face in the pillow, because he already knows Calum will have a disappointed look on his face and Michael can’t watch it, it would hurt too much. He knows it’s not fair, that he’s also hurting Calum with his nasty behavior, but he can’t think about that because his mind already feels close to crumbling right now. It didn’t when he crossed Calum’s doorstep, but the aftermath of using hard drugs and drinking for hours will do that to you.

Calum does scold him, but he sounds defeated more than angry. Michael doesn’t blame him. He’s not proud of showing up on his best friend’s doorstep incoherent and thinking about fucking thanking walls. He’s not proud of crying as said best friend looks at him with pity and wipes his tears as he asks him why he’s destroying himself. He showed up here because he loves Calum and he knows Calum loves him back and he secretly craves being taken care of, but after he’s slept a few hours he knows he’ll hide away in shame. He wishes he could be better. But he’s not. Maybe he should just destroy himself until there’s nothing left to put back together, that way Calum will be free of the burden that he is.

“Maybe you should take back your key. I keep bothering you and you don’t deserve that,” he whispers through his tears and Calum’s hand on his face freezes. “Maybe you should even drop me altogether. I’m no good for you. For anybody, really. I’m a wreck, your life would be so much easier without me. And since no one else actually cares about me, I guess I should just end-”

“Stop right there,” Calum cuts him off, voice hard, and his grip on Michael’s jaw tightens. “I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that, you hear me? I love you. You’re my whole life. You know I’d rather have you like that than not at all. So I won’t hear it.”

He’s looking at Michael so intensely, trying to convey how much he means it, but Michael can still see the hurt — god, so much hurt — in his eyes, and he hates himself even more for putting it there. Hates himself for hurting the only person in this god forsaken world who loves him once again. He hates the cheap vodka, and the even cheaper drugs, and his stupid friends he buys them from. They’re not even his real friends, he doesn’t even know their real name, and they only talk to him to sell him drugs. They don’t _care_.

“ _I’m stopping the drugs,_ ” he tells himself as he falls asleep a few moments later, Calum’s hand still stroking his tear-stained cheek. “ _I’m done with it. _”__

* * *

That’s a fucking lie, obviously. Michael tells himself he’s “done with it” at least twice a month, and he’s never honored the thought. Why would he start now? 

__

After his breakdown on Sunday, Michael did, in fact, hide away in shame. He was a shivering mess as he made his way out of the apartment (as stealthily as he could to avoid his friend) because he was hungover but mostly because his drunk, high ass forgot his coat somewhere leaving him in just a t-shirt in the middle of February. It’s Friday now, and he sent a quick apology text to Calum on Monday, but he’s refused to see him so far, instead hiding in his decaying excuse for an apartment when he’s not at work. 

__

It’s not the first time he’s crashed at Calum’s place in that state, far from it. Michael has been an incoherent mess for years, and what happened on Sunday is unfortunately considered routine for him and Calum. He hates being that vulnerable, but he’s come to accept that his internal compass always leads him to Calum once he’s high enough. Calum has also insisted numerous times that Michael never fights that instinct, because “I’d rather you wake me up in the middle of the night than find you’ve been hit by a car because you weren’t conscious enough not to walk on the highway”. Which is a fair concern, considering Michael did just that once. 

__

It happened a few years ago, and Michael had been feeling particularly down that day. He’d been fired from his job after showing up hungover one too many times, his internet was fucked so he couldn’t even play video games to forget that he would have no income for a while, and more importantly Calum wasn’t answering his texts. He’d drunk himself stupid, but it only made him feel worse, awful thoughts spiraling, anxiety pooling in his belly because Calum never ignored him. They were attached at the hip, they never went more than a few hours without texting. What if something had happened to him or if he finally decided to leave Michael’s sorry ass behind? He couldn’t decide which one would hurt more. 

__

He’d gotten up from his couch after some effort, feeling like he would throw up if he looked anywhere but at his feet, and gone to get the small bag hidden underneath his mattress. After struggling to mix everything together, he’d held the syringe in front of his face for a few minutes, hesitating. He’d only shot heroin once, and he hadn’t done it by himself, so he could fuck it up. He’d shrugged after a while, bringing the syringe to his forearm shakily. He was probably gonna be on his own forever now because he didn’t have a friend anymore, so what was there to lose if he accidentally killed himself? 

__

Because Michael’s stupid, especially when high, he’d thought everything was better once the drug was in his veins, and he’d wanted to go somewhere. See the stars, or whatever. So he’d walked, walked, and walked, looking at the stars and thinking about how they weren’t as bright as Calum's smile. As Calum’s soul. He’d walked, and got lost in his thoughts, and ended up on the highway about twenty miles from his place, not realizing it until it was too late, headlights blinding him and tires screeching before he felt a sharp pain in his side and he blacked out. 

__

When Calum showed up at the hospital a few hours later, he was livid. Screamed at Michael about how stupid he was for taking hard drugs, for making him think he’d died. Through his daze Michael could tell just how scared he was. His friend was shaking from head to toe, tears running down his face. Calum only got this mad when he was scared. 

__

That night, after he’d taken Michael home against the doctor’s advice, they slept together for the first time. Michael had been trying to explain his behavior to Calum, telling him about all the shit he was going through, about how he thought Calum didn’t want anything to do with him, and Calum had interrupted him with a kiss full of pain and passion. He’d showered him with praise as he reverently mapped Michael’s body with his mouth and fingers, “ _I love yous_ ” falling out of his mouth each time Michael would grip him tight as Calum thrust into him. He was tender and sweet and everything he usually was, and Michael had whispered the three words back to him before he fell asleep, wrapped in Calum’s arms. 

__

“Excuse me, sir?” 

__

Michael is shaken out of his thoughts by a customer asking for advice, and he goes to help her find the book she’s looking for. The bookstore is relatively empty for a Friday afternoon, and he got lost in his daily Calum thoughts in the silence, so he’s thankful for the distraction. The book the woman wants is a shitty one, he thinks as he hands it to her, but he doesn’t say anything because who is he to judge, right? 

__

She pays and then she’s gone, leaving Michael with his thoughts for company once more. He sighs and puts his head in his arms on the counter. It’s been a while since they’ve slept together, and Michael is starting to long for it again. He can’t help it, although he shouldn’t. After that first time, Michael had panicked because Calum had wanted to take him on dates and be his _boyfriend_ , and Michael just couldn’t. He doesn’t do boyfriends, and even if he did he doesn’t deserve Calum. Calum is smart, and a good person and he’s got his life together. If he were to date Michael, he’d be even more roped into his fucked up lifestyle than he is now. 

__

But that doesn’t mean that Michael isn’t weak, and that he doesn’t love Calum with his whole heart, and that his whole being isn’t attracted to him. And when he’s too drunk, sometimes, he can’t help but talk Calum into sleeping with him. Most times Calum falls for it as he’s upset, often because of Michael, and it always ends with him asking Michael to be with him for real. Michael knows it isn’t fair for him to seduce Calum like that just to leave him hanging because he knows he wants more, that _he_ loves Michael with his whole heart, but Michael can’t give that to him. 

__

He spends the rest of the day in a daze, thinking about Calum and his sharp jaw and strong hands and about the stash of coke waiting for him at home. Every time someone comes at the check out he has to hide his trembling hands because thinking about it reminds him he hasn’t taken anything in two days, and by the time he gets out the door he’s kind of a little horny because the thought of finally getting high is interlacing with Calum, and yeah. One more reason to avoid Calum. 

__

Luck isn’t on his side though, because as he gets out of the store Calum is waiting for him, leaning against his car, wrapped in a fluffy sweater, head in his phone. He looks as good as he did in Michael’s thoughts all day, except now he’s tangible, and he’s so close Michael would only have to take a few steps to touch him and revive his own body. But no. Fuck, not now. He can’t talk to him. 

__

Sunday was nowhere near the worst breakdown he’s had in front of Calum, and he tends to talk shit and be self-degrading when he’s high, but he’s never alluded to the thought of possibly-maybe wanted to die to Calum. He remembers his friend’s wounded reaction and the way he held Michael’s jaw tight as if to make sure he was there, _tangible_ , and he knows he’s gonna bring it up. He has half the thought to go back in and sneak out the back door, but Calum lifts his head before he can turn around. 

__

“Hey Mike,” he says, and before Michael can respond he finds himself engulfed in his friends arms, holding him close. “I’d slap you for ignoring my calls for almost a week and freaking me out, but I missed you.” 

__

The bookstore is not close to Calum’s house or the cafe he works at, otherwise Michael is sure he’d have come and found him sooner than that. 

__

“Yeah, sorry. Missed you too.” 

__

He squeezes his friend tight in return, and though he’s still anxious about what he’s gonna say he can’t say he’s mad at finally being held close like that. He can smell Calum’s fruit-scented shampoo and a lingering scent of sweat from his shift that must have ended not too long ago, and it’s like coming home. Michael knows he’s notorious for making bad decisions, but staying away from the only loving presence in his life for five whole days was probably the worst one yet. Even though it probably did Calum some good, whether he realizes it or not. 

__

Calum finally lets go, though he seems reluctant to, and he pats his cheek once before turning back to his car. 

__

“Come on, we’re going to my place.” 

__

Michael wants to argue, because he really doesn’t want to have the conversation he knows they’re about to have, and he’s starting to shake a bit more because going to Calum’s means no hit until tomorrow, but he can’t come up with a believable excuse to get away. He gets in the car. 

* * *

__

To Michael’s surprise, Calum doesn’t question him as soon as they’re home. He tells Michael they’re making dinner tonight, so Michael doesn’t protest and together they make a chili from scratch. It’s not something Michael does often, cooking, but he’s glad to have something to focus on instead of the sweet relief that’s waiting for him back at his place, out of immediate reach. Once everything’s heating on the stove, they watch a movie curled up on the couch. It’s nice, being close to Calum again after having denied himself that comfort. It’s familiar, and the shaking in Michael’s hands is almost gone. 

__

At some point Calum tells him something about the movie, something about how the characters aren’t well written and lack depth, but Michael just hums, having no idea what the movie’s even about. The only things his brain is registering are the steady beat of Calum’s heart beneath his ear and Calum’s hand tracing random patterns on his waist. It’s moments like these where he almost says “fuck it” and tells Calum that yes, they can be together. He wants to, right now. He feels good, and safe, and warm in a way he only does when he’s around Calum. But he’s also clear headed enough to know his place. 

__

He sighs, and tries to follow along the story as much as he can until dinner is ready, and then Calum nudges him slightly so that they can get up to eat. The chili is good, but he just spends the whole meal feeling tense, hands shaking again as he wonders when Calum is gonna bring it up. He usually isn’t one to beat around the bush, so his silence and his mindless chatter are making Michael nervous, and there’s no way Calum hasn’t noticed. He’s too good at reading him for that. 

__

Obviously, it happens when Michael has his guard down. By the time they go to bed, Calum still hasn’t said anything. Hasn’t said anything when they were cleaning the dishes. Hasn’t said anything when they were watching yet another movie or two, and still nothing after Michael got out of the shower. So when they get under the covers, not even a feet apart, Michael figures he won’t bring it up, and he relaxes. Which turns out to be a mistake. 

__

“Is it something you think about often?” 

__

“What do you mean?” Michael whispers back, even though they both know exactly what Calum means. 

__

“Killing yourself.” 

__

Michael is obviously no stranger to the thought, but hearing it said so straightforwardly from Calum’s mouth has his breath catching in his throat. It sounds much worse like that, crude and vile, especially in the absent and almost unemotional way Calum says them. 

__

Michael is about to answer, to say that it was just a fluke, that he didn’t mean it, but Calum beats him to it, as if reading his thoughts. 

__

“And don’t even think about lying to me. I’ll know. And it won’t make either of us feel better.” 

__

His voice is harsh as if to leave no room for argument but Michael can still hear the small tremble in it. Calum is scared, and he kinda wants to cry because it’s his fault. He shrugs instead. 

__

“Yeah, kind of,” there really is no point in lying now, “but it’s been that way for years and I haven’t done anything, so relax. It’s not the end of the world.” 

__

“How can you tell me to relax? For fuck’s sake Michael I-” 

__

Michael feels him move away slightly and all of a sudden he’s blinded by the light of the bedside lamp. Calum turns back towards him, and Michael feels his heart shatter at the sight he makes. His eyes are red and full of unshed tears, and he’s biting his lip, trying to prevent it from trembling. 

__

“How can you tell me, _me_ , that you’ve been wanting to die for years and then ask me to fucking relax?” he’s almost shouting, but his voice isn’t harsh anymore. Instead he sounds desperate, like he can’t get the words out fast enough. “Maybe I’m just a terrible friend for not noticing, and for that I’m so, so sorry. But Mike, I hope you believe me when I say that I don’t want you _gone_.” 

__

Tears are coming down his face now, and he comes closer to Michael, hands flying up to his face. Michael doesn’t know what to say, rendered speechless by the passion driving Calum. 

__

“I meant what I said last time,” Calum goes on, voice full of heartbreak, “I know you have issues, I’ve dealt with them first hand, and I wish to God or whoever’s up there that you can get better one day, but only _for yourself_. I’d rather have you a mess than not at all. Please, you have to believe me.” 

__

Michael opens his mouth a few times, but nothing comes out. He’s too stunned by Calum crying and _begging_ him to believe him. And the thing is, he does, to a degree. He believes wholeheartedly that Calum means it. That Calum loves him. But he also knows that Calum doesn’t realize how unkind to himself he’s being. He doesn’t need Michael to live, not like Michael needs him. He just doesn’t realize it. 

__

When Michael still hasn’t said anything after a while, Calum shakes Michael’s face once, making him a bit dizzy, and his eyes are electric, the intensity in them almost too much for Michael to deal with. 

__

“I don’t know what I’d do with you gone. I love you too much.” 

__

He holds Michael’s gaze for another few seconds, then, without any preamble, leans in and crashes his lips against Michael’s, harsh and soft. Michael does nothing at first, surprised by the action. He's on the brink of losing himself in how delicious it feels when he remembers himself and reluctantly pushes his friend away. That felt too much like an I’m-in-love-with-you kiss, and Michael doesn’t want to have to break Calum’s heart again. He shakes his head. 

__

“Calum, I’m sorry, you know I don’t-” 

__

“No, it’s okay,” Calum interrupts, “I won’t ask for more. Please let me have this. I just need to feel you right now. I need to.” 

__

Michael thinks about it for maybe ten seconds, but Calum looks desperate and like the only thing that will calm him down is Michael’s touch, and Michael is weak. He’s weak, and he’s missed the feeling of Calum’s naked body against his, and now Calum’s offering it on a platter, so Michael doesn’t resist. 

__

He brings his lips back on Calum’s, soft and full and if he sighs in relief at the feeling, then Calum absolutely clings to him, whispering “I love yous” and “I need yous” as they shed their clothes and fall into the distant yet familiar dance of love. 

__

It’s a terrible idea, and it will leave them both broken in the morning, but for now Michael shuts that part of his brain down and proceeds to show Calum how much he loves him in the only way he knows how. 

* * *

__

It was, in fact, a terrible idea. Even now, almost three weeks later, Michael hasn’t stopped thinking about it, and he knows Calum hasn’t either. 

__

Apart from that first time, Calum had never initiated any of their encounters, so Michael chose to follow his lead this time, and Calum was… gentle. There's no other way to describe it. Michael could feel the desperation in his movements, but the way he touched Michael was nothing but tender and reverent. He was confused by it at first. It's not that Calum has a habit of being rough, but usually Michael would take the lead and he would act a little bit careless, mostly wanting to get off quickly in his drugged or drunken state. But he let himself enjoy it, and it was good. Too good, now that he thinks about it, and he caught a glimpse of what it would be like, being with Calum. 

__

But Calum promised he wouldn’t ask for more this time, so he didn’t. Michael doesn’t know why he felt disappointed, but he decides not to think about it. It’s harder than he thought, though, so he’s been making sure he always has something with him for when the thought starts creeping up on him. And it creeps up on him a lot, so he’s taken to doing lines in the bathroom at work to stop himself from going crazy. Not his proudest moments, but when he’s at work he can’t drink, bottles harder to conceal than a small pack of powder. 

__

He hasn’t been avoiding Calum this time around, but he thinks it would be for the better if he did. Because it’s weird, now. It’s never been weird between them before. No matter how shitfaced Michael got in front of Calum or how many times they hooked up. But now Michael’s never not in a high ot drunken when they’re together, and Calum is just… acting differently. 

__

He’s a bit more distant, rarely initiates any type of physical touch with Michael, although he doesn’t stray away when Michael does, and he looks sad, and it seems to get worse every time he looks Michael’s way, the look in his eyes a mixture of hurt and all the love he’s not bothering to hide. 

__

Michael sighs as he puts down the book he’s reading, not really able to concentrate. It always surprises people, but he loves reading. He loves focusing his energy on other people’s stories and lives instead of worrying about his own. He loves making fun of characters when they’re being stupid, he loves feeling excitement over something that won’t have any impact on his life. 

__

But tonight he can’t. Calum called a few hours ago saying he wouldn’t be able to come over because he had a date, apologizing over and over. So now Michael’s been trying to read this book, because this is just a normal day. It’s fine. Calum should go on dates, Michael always tells him to because it’s been at least a year since he hasn’t gone on one. Calum doesn’t deserve that. He needs to meet new people, like he’s probably doing right this moment, so that he can find someone that’s worthy of his time and attention. He’ll fall in love and realize that he never really loved Michael that way, finally, and he’ll be free. He’ll be happy instead of pining after Michael the way he’s been for years. 

__

This should be a good thing, and Michael should be happy for him. That’s what he told Calum on the phone before hanging up, promising him not to do anything stupid tonight just because plans have changed. This is why he’s been trying to read for almost four hours, to keep his mind occupied, but he can’t.

__

He keeps thinking of Calum having dinner with a random dude, of Calum getting back to random dude’s place, or maybe he’ll take him to his. Thinking of Calum fucking this random dude who’s definitely not Michael in the same bed he’s fucked Michael countless times before. He shouldn’t be jealous, because that’s fucked up, but god help him he _is_. He’s starting to boil with it, and maybe the thought of Calum fucking someone else is also making him hard, which is embarrassing and extra stupid even for him, but he refuses to touch himself. He won't, he’s stronger than that. Well, he will be if he just takes something. 

__

He promised Calum he wouldn't, though. He thinks it’s pretty rich of Calum to ask him to do that because he’s gonna fuck _someone else _, and he doesn't know why he wants to keep his promises about this all of a sudden, but he promised either way. Maybe he should go and fuck someone else as well. It hasn’t been as long as it has for Calum, but it’s certainly been a while, and he probably shouldn’t get himself back out there when he’s feeling on edge and vulnerable, but he’s already horny, so what’s he got to lose?__

__

He doesn’t stop to think about it. He loses the book, gets up and moves towards the bathroom. He’s gonna forget about Calum tonight. 

* * *

__

It’s the first time Michael’s going clubbing while not high. It’s weird, and he notices things he usually doesn’t. The club is a bit dodgy, and the music is fucking loud, and a couple is almost getting off together at the back of the room. And he feels a bit lost, doesn't know what to do with himself. He’s had four or five drinks, he isn’t really sure, and he’s not feeling drunk enough, and no one has caught his eye yet. 

__

The guys are hot, it’s not an issue. Some of them even looked at him with interest, but Michael has made sure to show he wasn’t interested. The thing is, they all look so _soft_ and _delicate_. And while Michael doesn’t mind that, it’s not what he needs tonight. Tonight he needs someone strong enough to hold him down and make him forget. 

__

He finds what he’s looking for an hour and a few drinks later when he comes out of the bathroom, wobbling slightly. He hears noise coming from a backroom, and he’s really drunk and a lot bored, so he opens the door, not bothering to check if he’s allowed to. What he finds leaves him breathless in the doorway, eyes wide in awe and heart skipping a beat. There are two guys making out against a wall in the small, dark lit room, and boy. What a sight they make. They’re both huge, shirtless torsos covered in tattoos, muscles flexing as they grip each other roughly, and Michael’s mouth waters. 

__

He must make some kind of noise, because they both lean back and look towards him. Fuck, but they’re really hot. They look a bit older than Michael, but not older than thirty. The one previously pushed against the wall has piercing blue eyes and short black hair, and the other has dark eyes, dirty blond hair and a chiseled jaw Michael wouldn’t mind nibbling on. 

__

“What are you doing, pretty? Here to have some fun?” the blond one asks, a little breathless. 

__

Michael blushes and starts stuttering, because he is, but how could they know just from looking at him? But then his eyes flicker a bit to the right, and he sees what he _knows_ is coke on the small table. That’s what they mean. Okay. Fuck, right now is not the time to tempt him. He shakes his head. 

__

“No sorry, not that. I don’t do that.” It’s a lie but they don’t need to know that. 

__

They ask him to come closer, and he does, an invisible string tugging on him, despite knowing he’ll just be more tempted both by the men and the drug. 

__

They separate a bit more, and the brunette — the taller one, he notes — cups Michael’s chin, tilting his head up. He makes a disapproving noise. 

__

“I don’t know. You look like a stoner to me, baby.” 

“But I promised.” 

__

He should have probably kept up with the lie, but he knows he does look like a stoner, and he was just called “ _baby_ ”. He thinks it’s probably weird that this stranger, whose tongue was just deep down the other stranger’s throat a minute ago, is calling him baby, but he’s feeling the word in his bones. And he wants the coke so bad. 

__

“Who, your boyfriend?” 

__

“He’s not my boyfriend.” He cuts off, because Calum is _not_. Calum is off somewhere fucking some random dude. 

__

“Well then you don’t owe him anything, baby.” 

__

Michael hesitates. He wants to, but he feels weird about disappointing Calum again. He feels another presence behind him — the blond, he figures — then hands are gripping his hips and lips are brushing against his ear, making him shiver. The taller one is still holding his head up, eyes fixed on his. 

__

“If you do a line or two with us,” the mouth by his ear whispers, “we’ll take you back to our place, and we can have some _other_ fun.” 

__

One of his hands slides to the inside of Michael’s thigh, achingly close to his crotch, and Michael lets out a whine. This isn’t good. In fact, this is shady, some guys bribing him into doing drugs with sex, but fuck, he’s dying for both, and he’s drunk enough not to care about making bad decisions. 

__

“Okay, yeah. Fuck, I’ll do it.” 

__

“Good boy,” the one holding his chin says, before letting go of it. 

__

Michael feels a little weird about the comment, but he shrugs the feeling off as he does a line. Then a second, because they offer and Michael is fucking weak for it. They’re looking at him intensely as he does it, making him feel hot under their gaze. Fuck Calum and his not being into Michael doing drugs, this is exhilarating. They’re both on him in a second when he gets up, and he urges them to take him out of here. 

__

They do, and not even thirty minutes later Michael finds himself in an apartment in a shady part of town that’s not in a much better state than his own, another drink down his throat, and then he’s taken to the bedroom. They’re… intense, the both of them. They hold him tight, hold him down like he hoped they would when he first saw them, and Michael can tell this isn’t the first time they’re doing this. They move together in a way that is only possible after being together for some time, and Michael is a bit confused, not sure if he likes his role in this. 

__

It’s not… it’s _rough_ , and Michael knows he went looking for it, and he doesn't understand, usually he doesn't mind it, but there’s nothing that resembles love or tenderness like there is with Calum to compensate, so it feels like too much. To add to that the effect of the coke is wearing off, and he’s about to cry from how much it doesn’t feel good. The hands holding his wrists down feel crushing, and those gripping his hips as he’s being pounded into the mattress feel oppressive. The mouths biting at his neck and whispering lewd and disgusting things to him are making him want to throw up. He doesn’t feel safe, and he needs to get out of here _right now_. 

__

“Stop it,” he finally finds the courage to say, and he hates how scared he sounds. “Let me go!” 

__

All of a sudden the weight disappears off of him, and before he knows it he’s left alone, shivering on the bed. He doesn’t know why he expected to have to put up more of a fight for them to let go, but he doesn’t question it. They’re both sat on the edge of the bed — and Michael realizes how fucked up it is that they don’t know each other’s names — looking a bit annoyed, though they still ask him what’s wrong. He has a feeling they’re asking because it’s the right thing to do though, not out of concern, so he doesn’t give them an answer, just picks up his clothes and tells them he needs to go to the bathroom. 

__

Once he’s closed the door, he hastily puts on his clothes and shoes before sitting against the tub, trying to tame the panic rising in him. He had a weird feeling about them from the beginning, he should have listened to his gut. And they didn’t exactly do anything wrong, but he doesn’t like the way they made him feel. Almost like he was something for them to play with, some new toy to spice up their sex life. He doesn’t like what they _called_ him as the brunette fucked him and the blond held his wrists down. The one day he’s not high on heroin. He's regreting it so fucking much. Goddamn it, fuck Calum. 

__

He pulls up his sleeves, examining his wrists as he gets up to get to the sink. Shit, shit, shit, he’s gonna have bruises for weeks, he knows it. And he’ll have to hide them, otherwise Calum is gonna ask questions Michael doesn’t want to answer, _again_. He splashes water on his face, trying to clear his head. It doesn’t work much, brain fuzzy and thoughts going a mile a second. He stays like that for a while, hunched over the sink, trying to calm down the shaking that’s taking over his body. He needs to get out, he’d just like to do it without running into them again. A loud banging on the door interrupts his train of thoughts, and he jumps in surprise, heart beating in his chest. 

__

“You okay, man?” 

__

“Yeah. I’m coming out now,” he replies, hoping that will make him — blond guy, he’s pretty sure from the voice — back up from the door, but no such luck. He’s crowded against the wall as soon as he’s out, and he’s starting to get annoyed pretty quickly on top of the anxiety pooling in his stomach. He puts his hands against blond guy’s chest, pushing him away slightly. 

__

“Dude, come on. I said stop. I’m going home.” 

__

He hopes he doesn’t sound as nervous as he is, because if they decide that they don’t want him to leave, he won’t be strong enough to stop them. A voice comes from the doorway to the bedroom. 

__

“Oh, come on baby. You’re really gonna seduce us like that only to leave us hanging? That’s not very polite, is it?” 

__

Michael is pretty sure they were the one who seduced him, but he doesn’t correct him, not wanting to make things worse for himself. He goes to move past blond guy, but he’s thrown back against the wall as soon as he tries, and a hand grabs his jaw in a parody of earlier tonight. But this time there’s nothing hot about it and it hurts, so he brings his hands up to try and pry it away. 

“You’re a fucking slut, you know that?” blond guy spits in his face, anger clear on his own. “You come to us all pretty and coy, we offer you coke and a good fuck for free even though we should have made you pay for both, and now you want to leave just because your weak ass got scared?” 

Michael can feel his eyes welling up and his hands shaking at the harsh words, and he doesn’t even know how to defend himself. He just wants to go home. He says so in a small voice, and the taller one huffs before appearing at the blond’s shoulder. 

“Let him go,” he says to his partner, a twisted glint in his eyes as he looks at Michael. “He’s not worth it. It didn’t even feel good fucking him. And we don’t need a crybaby here. Let him get back to his boyfriend.” 

__

The hand lets go of his jaw and the two men back away, gesturing towards the door, and Michael doesn’t know what to do. Is this a trap? His gut tells him it is, but he doesn’t stop to think about it, pats his pockets to make sure his belongings aren’t gone, and makes his way towards the door. Which is when a hand grabs his upper arm and spins him around, and he doesn’t have time to get scared before he doubles over in pain, wind knocked out of him as a fist punches him hard in the stomach, one, two, three, five times. 

__

“Oh, _fuck_.” He whizzes, unable to make his voice louder as he’s panting for air, clutching his middle with his free arm. Someone let him fucking die already. They're not even gracious enough to let him crumble to the floor. 

__

“I better not see you again,” the guy holding him warns, Michael didn’t even notice which one. He gasps as another fists comes into contact with his abused ribs, and nods in response, figuring it’s the best way to act. 

__

He’s right about that, at least, as they let him go, and he stumbles to the door as fast as he can without looking back. He runs down the stairs, ignoring the pain lacing through his body, and fuck, he doesn’t remember climbing four stories on the way there. 

__

He’s hit by the cold as he opens the door of the lobby, and he tenses up, making him hiss in pain. He rounds the building and runs a block or two, only coming to a stop behind an old building once he figures he’s far enough to not get in any more trouble. He collapses against a wall, and now that the adrenaline rush is over, he’s starting to feel his whole body again, which he would have rather not, thank you very much. 

__

His thighs and ass are burning, and his lungs are on fire, maybe a bit from the run but a lot from the punches. He feels exhausted, and a bit panicky, although that’s most likely just the drugs wearing off. Or not. He can't tell the difference anymore. He tries to catch his breath until his hands are shaking less, then takes out his phone to figure out where he is, groaning when he does. 

__

He considers calling a taxi as he realizes he’s about a forty minute walk away from his place, but then he remembers that he spent quite a lot of money on drinks tonight, and he should save what he has left. Walking is gonna be a bitch in that state, it already is after the run he’s had, but he’ll just have to suck it up. He could call Calum to pick him up, but he doesn’t really want him to see him like that. He’ll ask questions, and Michael doesn’t want to think about the answers. Also, Calum is probably having a good time right now, considering it’s the middle of the night, and Michael shouldn’t bother him. He still grimaces at the thought. 

__

When he gets home, after a tumultuous journey, he jumps in the shower. The bruises on his wrists and hips are even darker now, and he doesn’t know how he’ll cover up the ones on his wrists at work tomorrow. Or to Calum. But Calum he can avoid. Not work. A large bruise is already blossoming on his stomach and spreading towards his ribs — _fuck_ , but the guy packed a punch — but this one is gonna be easier to hide, as long as he can walk without a hitch in his step. He washes himself as methodically as he can, trying not to think, but it’s just not working. There’s still this voice telling him something was wrong and that it was his fault. He tries to shut it off, but it’s getting louder, and he feels like crawling out of his skin by the time he gets out of the shower. He puts on a warm hoodie and sweatpants, and sets to make breakfast. 

__

It’s barely four in the morning, but Michael can’t go to sleep. He just can’t, doesn’t want to think about _them_ and about how unsafe everything felt. Miserable all-nighter it is, then. He already knows how that’s gonna end.

* * *

Calum shows up the day after, and he sighs when he finds Michael. 

__

“Tell me that’s not why you missed work today.” 

__

Michael opens his heavy eyes and looks at his friend. He doesn’t look happy at all, and there's no question as to why. Michael is currently on his couch, he’s high as fuck, and _he’s_ happy. At least he thinks so. He smiles at Calum. 

__

“Work sucks. This is way better.” 

__

“What is it this time? Please tell me it’s joints,” he asks as he sits down on the edge of the couch, taking Michael’s face in his hand and checking his pupils. Calum sighs again. “It’s not joints, is it?” 

__

His voice sounds sad. Michael doesn’t want him to be sad. Calum should be happy like he is. He shows him the needle that rolled under the coffee table. 

__

“No it’s not. That's the happy juice,” he offers with a pout. 

__

Calum takes the needle from under the table, looks at it for a second, then throws it at the window like it offended him. Michael can hear it when it breaks. 

__

“Hey!” 

__

“Is that fucking heroin? Are you using that shit again?” Calum ignores him. He’s angry, and Michael cowers under his cold gaze. He doesn’t say anything more about the broken needle. 

__

“Well, I never actually stopped. I just told you I did cause it made you happy.” 

__

Calum seems taken aback, his mouth hanging open. Michael thinks he looks kinda stupid, but he also looks kinda cute, so he doesn’t say anything. Then he finally closes his mouth, his jaw tightening and his eyes welling up. 

__

“No, don’t be sad Cal,” he whines, because he hates to see it. “Look, I’m fine!” 

__

“You’re fucking not! And apparently you’ve never even been a tiny bit better. How could I not see? First I don’t realize you’re fucking suicidal, and now this?” 

__

He sounds a bit hysterical, and Michael is scared he’s getting crazy with it, so he sits up clumsily, only wincing a little at the pain in his body, and puts his hands on Calum’s shoulders. He opens his mouth, but Calum beats him to it. 

__

“I swear to god, if you tell me to relax again I’m gonna fucking slap you!” 

__

“Please don’t hit me,” he answers hurriedly in a small, scared voice, retracting his hands. He hates being hit. He hates rough touches. _It doesn’t feel as good as they said it would_. He closes his eyes, shakes his head. He doesn’t know where that thought’s coming from. 

“I’m sorry,” Calum apologizes. “That’s- I’m sorry. Of course I won’t hit you, I’d never do that.” He slides his hands down to Michael’s wrists, and Michael lets out a yelp his brain is too slow to retain. Calum frowns. “Are you hurt?” 

Michael tries to get away, and surprisingly Calum lets him. He’s looking a bit scared again, though, so Michael knows he’s not getting away with it. 

“Show me your wrists?” he doesn’t give up when Michael shakes his head no. “Please Michael, I’m really worried about you. I just want to know you didn’t,” he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, “I wanna wake sure you didn't hurt yourself.” 

“No!” he hurries to say, because it’s true, he didn’t. He wouldn’t, and he doesn’t want Calum to think he did. 

“Then show me.” 

Michael sighs. There’s no escaping this. But he hates it because he doesn’t feel happy and floaty anymore. He brings shaky hands to his wrists and slowly pushes the sleeves up before almost shoving them under Calum’s nose. He hears a strangled gasp and then Calum’s holding his hands, effectively trapping him. 

“Who did this to you?” Calum whispers in disbelief. “Mike, these are clearly finger shaped, how-” 

“I had kinky sex!” he rushes to say, which- It’s true. He barely remembers it now, and he didn’t like it, but it’s still true. It’s what he’s been telling himself, anyway. _It doesn’t feel as good as they said it would._

“I- what?” 

“I said I had kinky sex, okay. Can you drop it? This is embarrassing enough.” 

It does the trick, and Calum caves, apologizing for prying, though he doesn’t look too happy about it. Michael really hates lying to him, but he doesn’t think this is worth bothering him with. He looks Calum in the eyes, and the tenderness he’s missed all weekend is here in its full glory. He feels like kissing Calum, because he’s Michael’s light in this cold dark world and also to remove the frown settled on his pretty face. He remembers how it was too sweet, too real, too _much_ the last time they slept together, and he looks away suddenly before remembering the reason why he went out on Saturday in the first place. 

________“How was your date?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Calum seems surprised by the change of subject, but he collects himself and shrugs. “Good.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Good, that’s it? Did you take him back to your place?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“No!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Part of Michael is relieved at that, but he refuses to acknowledge it. Instead he sighs, because that means that Calum is still stuck in his head, and that’s not the goal. He cups Calum’s face, his hands strangely steady._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Cal, why?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I didn’t feel like it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“He wasn’t hot?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“No, he was. Believe me he was. But I didn’t feel a connection with him,” he shrugs, as if he didn’t spend his first two years of college sleeping his way through campus with people he didn’t even know the name of. Until Michael was dumb enough to walk onto a highway._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“That didn’t use to be a criteria, before.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Well, it is now.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yeah, and now you haven’t slept with anybody for, like, a whole year.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“That’s not true.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Michael checks his memory, trying to see if he missed something, but then Calum gives him a look, and Michael realizes he’s talking about him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Oh. Well, I meant someone that’s not me. I don’t count.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Of course you count!” Calum says, almost offended._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Well, I shouldn’t. We should stop, anyway.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________They usually only talk about this the morning after, so it’s a little weird now, in Michael’s living room at six in the afternoon. He doesn’t know how Calum’s handling this conversation sober. He’s barely handling it high._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Mike-” he sighs, annoyed, and pries Michael’s hands away from his face. He doesn’t let go of them. “I know what you’re gonna say, so please just don’t. You know what I think of it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“But it’s true!” Michael’s also getting annoyed now, the way he always does when they talk about this. “You should find someone better who deserves you, and we should stop having sex.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Well, you’re always the one who comes onto me, so you should have that talk with yourself-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You’re the one who begged for it last time!” Michael retorts, and he swears Calum flushes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I just learned you’d been on the brink of killing yourself for years, you can’t blame me for that.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He’s looking at Michael pointedly, as if daring him to argue, but when Michael opens his mouth to do just that, he cuts him off._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“And I know I said I wouldn’t ask for more this time, but you know what, that’s bullshit. Don’t interrupt me. We love each other, Mike, and I’m sick of pretending I’ll find someone else just because you tell me to. I can’t replace you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“But I’m not good for you, and you know it. You should get away from me, get with a guy who can give you what you deserve. I refuse to ruin your life more than I already do.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Calum sighs once more, then lets go of Michael’s hands to grab his face, and gives him a long, hard kiss smack on the lips. Michael’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, because that’s an awfully nice kiss, not like the kisses _they_ gave him, and only opens them when Calum backs away, not letting go of his face. He looks a bit flustered, and more breathless than he probably should after a simple kiss. 

________“You keep talking about what I deserve, but what about what I want? What I need?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You don’t need me.” Michael refuses to believe it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“But I do. Fuck, Mike, I hate begging, but I’m begging you now. Please.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It’s still not happening, Cal,” he whispers, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He hates doing this, and it doesn’t get easier every time he has to. “I’m sorry.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He almost wants to take it back when Calum lets out a whine in acceptance, his face crumbling. He wants to take it back when Calum, understanding Calum, just wraps himself around Michael, arms tight around his neck as he sniffs, holding back his own tears. He wants to take it back as Calum whispers “I’m sorry for asking” and “I still love you”._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Instead he just wraps his arms around Calum’s middle in return, and close like that it hurts his bruised ribs, but he ignores it. He deserves it anyway, for hurting Calum like this. Even if it’s for the better._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________They remain like this for a while, and Michael thinks it’s a bit weird, but at the same time a hug from his best friend — well only friend, but that’s just a detail — might be just what he needs right now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________When Calum breaks the hug, he gives Michael a sad smile, strokes his cheek softly as if Michael's skin would break apart if he touched it more firmly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I think I should go. Are you gonna be okay?” Michael shrugs. “Promise me you’ll take a shower, that you'll have dinner, that you _won't take anything else_ , and that you’ll go to work tomorrow. Can’t lose that one, Mikey.” 

“I promise.” That's a lot of promises to make, and it’s gonna be a bit hard to come down on his own, but it’s the least he can do, and he couldn’t possibly ask Calum to stay with him. It wouldn’t be fair. And he’s right about the job, anyway. Michael’s had it for about eight months, which is the longest he’s been able to keep a job, and it’s really not bad. He _can’t_ lose it. 

________He misses Calum’s warmth as soon as he gets up, but he tells himself it’s only because it’s still winter and being close to someone brings warmth. And he needs to get used to not hugging Calum all the time if he’s gonna get himself a boyfriend. Cause that wouldn’t go well, he assumes. Calum starts to leave, then he turns back towards Michael as if he just remembered something._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Oh, I almost forgot why I came here in the first place.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It wasn’t just to see me?” He wonders if maybe it’s too soon to make that kind of joke, but Calum just lets out a small laugh that almost sounds out of place with his watery eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Shut up. I was just wondering. You know Ashton and Luke?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Michael nods. He doesn’t _know_ know them, but Calum talks about them quite often. Luke works with Calum at the cafe, and they seemed to hit it off instantly when Calum started working there about a year ago. Michael even remembers telling Calum to ask him out a few times, which Calum kept saying no to because “he’s a coworker, that’s not professional”, until Michael learned that Luke had a boyfriend. Luke and Ashton have been together for a couple of years if Michael’s memory serves, and from what he’s heard they’re absolutely smitten with each other. 

________“So, I’m having dinner at their place on Friday,” Calum goes on and Michael already knows where that’s going, “and they invited you. So I wanted to know- will you come with me this time?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Michael’s first instinct is to say no. They’ve asked to meet him numerous times, because apparently Calum won’t shut up about him, and Michael has always refused. He’s sure Calum has only described him as he sees him, so he probably said ridiculous things about how Michael is amazing and lovely and the best guy he’s ever known– and Michael can’t. He can’t meet them and see the disappointment on Calum’s friends faces when they get to know him and realize he’s just a drunk and a junkie who doesn’t deserve Calum’s attention._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But he’s looking at Calum now, who looks like he expects the negative answer that always comes afterwards, and Michael just broke his heart once more, and he can’t say no now. He braces himself, lets out a shaky smile._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yeah, sure. I’ll come with you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Really?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Calum’s face lights up, surprise discernible in his eyes, and Michael’s heart does a somersault in his chest. Calum is one to see the positive in everything so he often looks happy enough, but Michael can still tell when he’s faking it. But he’s so undeniably truly happy right now that Michael knows he’s made the right choice._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Even if he ends up cursing himself all week for agreeing.

* * *

Dinner is interesting, to say the least. 

The night starts out with Calum picking Michael up and immediately noticing his tiny pupils as Michael gets in the car. He doesn’t mention it, but disappointment is written all over his face as he drives them to Ashton and Luke’s place, and the silence in the car is deafening. Michael knows Calum is mad that Michael is about to show up at his friends’ house for the first time high as a kite, but honestly, what was he expecting him to do? 

He’s going to screw up, there’s no way he’s not. He’s gonna say something stupid or embarrass himself. He’s been stressed out all week about tonight, picturing every possible scenario in his head. The only way Michael knows how to deal with stress is by absolutely not dealing with it and drowning himself in drinks and white powders. 

On top of that, his brain has been bugging him with thoughts of those guys from last weekend, which is definitely not helping matters. He doesn’t know what’s the thing that’s making him feel weird about it. Honestly, they were a bit violent and maybe one of them punched him hard enough that almost a week later he’s still bruised, but Michael still overreacted. They didn’t do anything he didn’t want them to, it’s not like it was an _assault_ , or something. They were just too rough for Michael's liking, and weird, and very much manipulative. 

But he tries not to think about it, which is another reason why he’s been making sure to keep the needle at arms length, which was terrible and definitely not professional at work, but he managed. Well, sort of. Michael has done a lot of hours at work while either drunk or high — or both — but never to that extent. He even suspects his boss knows Michael has something going on usually, but this week he kept sending him confused and worried glances, so he assumes this time he wasn’t very successful in hiding it. 

So now, it’s Friday night and today Michael has doubled up on the dose because going to this dinner thing is _terrifying_. And this is one more reason why he doesn’t want to go; he was stressed out so he took more drugs, but it’s backfiring on him now because he knows it’s obvious he did and they’ll probably notice, and they’ll know he’s a stupid addict who can’t go a day without getting a hit. 

His mouth is dry and his hands are full on shaking by the time they pull up in front of Luke and Ashton’s place, but Calum takes pity on him — at least he doesn’t look as mad anymore — and holds his hand as they go up to the door and make the presentations. 

Luke and Ashton are exactly what he expected friends of Calum’s to be like. They’re absolutely lovely as they greet Michael, tell him how they’re glad to finally meet him, and if they notice something wrong with Michael, they’re nice enough not to mention it. They immediately treat him as if they’ve known him for as long as they’ve known Calum and Michael is surprised by how well he fits in their little group. 

It’s a bit strange, at first. They sit together in the living room as they wait for their meal to be ready, Luke and Ashton on the two armchairs, leaving Michael and Calum to sit together on the couch. He’s glad for it. Calum’s arm is thrown on the back of the couch, fingers mindlessly playing with the hair on Michael’s nape. He’s grateful for the touch, grounding him and making him focus as much as possible on the conversation and Calum’s sweet friends, even if he doesn’t really participate. He’s happy to sit back and enjoy his best friend around people that aren’t Michael. 

There’s not a drop of alcohol while they talk in the living room, and still none at dinner, and Michael wonders if it’s Calum’s doing or if it’s just a Luke and Ashton thing. He’s banking on the former. 

The food is delicious, some Vietnamese recipe that Michael’s never heard of, cooked by Ashton himself. Michael tells him how much he likes it. 

“Thank you, I'm glad you like it. Luke is a shit cook, I would never subject you to it.” 

“Hey!” Luke replies good-naturedly, “don’t call me out like that in front of our new friend!” 

“Well, it’s not like he wouldn’t have figured it out at some point!” 

They continue bickering for a few minutes, though they look so fondly at each other that Michael knows they’re doing it for show, Calum jumping in from time to time to make fun of Luke, and it’s all so sweet and they’re all so happy together and Luke called him a _friend_. Michael’s heart is doing all sorts of things in his chest, and he tells himself it’s because of the drug but it’s probably also because he doesn’t know how to react to feeling so at ease with these wonderful people. 

It feels good, is the thing. It feels good to hang out with guys that aren’t here to sell him drugs or to fuck him or to use him to get to someone. Michael _knows_ he just looks like a mess and he doesn’t talk much because he’s a bit slow on the uptake, but they don’t seem to care. They make sure that Michael feels included, and Calum keeps giving him small smiles throughout dinner, and it’s going too well. Something has to go wrong. 

Michael hates being right. 

At some point they move back to the living room, taking up their previous spots, but this time Michael curls up next to Calum, head on his friend’s shoulder. The banter between the couple and Calum is fun to witness, but he really can’t participate this time. He feels a little weird, shaky and a bit dizzy, and he already knows what’s coming. His last hit today was before leaving work, and it’s been around seven hours, and he can tell he’s about to come down hard from the crash. 

He doesn’t even have pills with him to calm himself down and take the edge off for a few hours so he just clings to Calum, trying to keep his eyes open and focused, hoping no one will notice. But then Calum turns towards him, asks him something he doesn’t even comprehend, and frowns when Michael doesn’t answer. 

He can’t. He’s shaking too much, and he’s drowsy, everything around him shapeless for a minute, vision blurred around the edges and he can feel Calum’s hand on his forehead and neck. A faint echo of “Michael you’re burning up” and a “fuck it’s too slow” resounds somewhere inside his mind, and then Calum is shaking him by the shoulder and calling his name, trying to get his attention. 

“What?” Michael replies after a while. His tongue feels heavy, his words slurred. 

“How much did you take?" 

“’lot. I think.” 

“Fuck, Mike,” Calum huffs, but he looks more scared than usual. Michael must be in a bad state. He sure feels like it. “You’re burning up,” he parrots, hand going back to Michael’s neck where his pulse is incredibly slow, other hand checking his pupils even though they surely look the same they did when they met up earlier tonight. 

Michael starts noticing his skin is flushed red, and he does feel hot all over. That’s usually what he feels after taking heroin, but this time he’s feeling it tenfold. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken so much non-stop all week. 

All that heat is making him uncomfortable, uneasy and like _too much_ , so he starts tugging on his sleeves, tries to take off his shirt, but he’s too uncoordinated, barely managing to tug them over his hands. He whines, because he hates when that happens, and he might just start crying from frustration. He doesn’t know why he always ends up crying when he’s like this, but it fucking sucks. 

Calum comes to his rescue, as always, because Calum is awesome, and helps him take off his sweater. Michael mumbles a thank you, smiling a bit because Calum is awesome — has he said that already? — but then he hears someone yelp further in the room, and Calum’s eyes are wide, one hand flying to his mouth. 

“Oh fuck,” he lets out through it, before he moves it away from his mouth, extends his arm so his hand hovers over Michael’s naked torso. His eyes are glued on it, wide in horror, mouth agape. In the background, he faintly hears Luke and Ashton gasp. 

Michael is a bit confused at their excessive reactions, so he says nothing, just frowns at Calum, who’s throat bobs as he swallows. 

“Fuck Mikey,” he says again, voice strained. “You can’t possibly tell me _this_ is from kinky sex.” 

Michael looks down at his own torso, and it’s his turn to let out a gasp, horrified when he realizes what has everyone so worried. The bruises are nasty, an ugly mix of purple and yellow across his stomach and left ribs, having barely started to fade. 

He can’t stand having Calum’s hand so close to it suddenly, bats it away not too gently as he leans back, burying himself in the corner of the couch. Someone’s making pitiful scared noises, and it takes him a second to realize it’s him. He feels like he should be panting right now, but his breathing is still too slow and it feels weird as fuck, not being able to panic properly. 

Calum’s eyes widen even more, if possible. He looks absolutely distraught. His hand itches towards Michael’s wrists, clutched over his stomach in an attempt to hide his shame, but he seems to think better of it, starts speaking instead. 

“It’s not, is it? Oh my god. Did– did someone _force_ themself on you?” 

He says it in a silent breath, as if he doesn’t want to speak the thought out loud, scared of the answer. Michael doesn’t give him one. He holds his middle tighter, which hurts like a bitch, but he’s too busy closing his eyes and trying to reject the question. Unfortunately, Calum takes that as his answer. He lets out a sound that’s half gasp and half sob, and Michael opens his eyes to Ashton rubbing Calum’s shoulder, looking composed and matter of fact as Calum’s demeanor starts to crumble. Michael can’t let him get the wrong idea. 

“Calum,” he says, speech slurred, “it’s not like that.” 

"Isn't it?" 

“It’s _not_ ,” Michael says a bit more fiercely this time, though he’s sure he doesn’t sound very convincing. He sounds like an addict who doesn’t know anything. “It- I didn’t really like it but they didn’t force themselves on me, and they stopped when-” 

“They?” Calum interrupts, “tell me you don’t mean they as in several people.” 

Michael stays silent for too long again, and he can see Ashton’s hands clenching on Calum’s shoulders before he follows Luke who gets up and runs somewhere Michael can’t see. He thinks he hears the sound of someone throwing up. 

“Fuck, Michael what did you get yourself into this time?” 

Michael frowns, and he thinks he might join Calum and start crying, because this doesn’t seem fair. It wasn’t his fault if they were really sketchy. 

“Were you high? Roofied?” 

“No. I was drunk. You told me not to do drugs, so I _didn’t_. I just had a few drinks. Well lots of 'em. And I wasn’t roofied. I was drunk, but I chose to go back to their place.” 

“Then what’s that?” he points to the bruises on Michael’s torso. “And why are you so scared if it’s “not like that”, huh?” His voice is softer, like he’s trying to comfort Michael, his own fright reigned in it seems. It’s still visible in his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers, still shivering, and he wants his sweater back so he can hide himself. Better yet, he wants to get out of this house, away from Calum’s watery eyes. In his state he’d probably end up under a car, but he thinks he’d probably deserve it. He made Calum cry _again_. 

“Then what happened?” 

When Michael bites his lips and definitely starts to shed tears this time, Calum scoots closer to him, and Michael doesn’t push him away, just hides his face against Calum’s shoulder. Calum snakes one arm over Michael’s burning shoulders, his other hand taking one of Michael’s in his. Michael doesn’t say anything as he looks at the barely fading bruise on his wrist. 

“Whatever happened, it’s not your fault,” Calum whispers against Michael’s forehead. Michael just cries silently, wiping his tears on Calum’s shirt. “What did they do that you didn’t like?” 

“Everything,” Michael says through a silent sob, and the words just start flowing out of him, dam breaking. “I felt like I was trapped, and they held my wrists down, and I thought I wanted that 'cause I asked for it but they didn’t _love_ me, not like you do because they called me a slut while he was fucking me and it didn’t feel good.” 

He’s crying harder now, unconsolable as all the feelings he’s been trying to ignore are coming back to him and he’s clutching at the hem of Calum’s shirt with his free hand. Calum strokes his arm in encouragement. 

“I told them to stop and they did, but then I wanted to leave and they wouldn’t _let_ me. Said I was a tease for leaving them like that.” 

“So they hit you?” Calum inquires when Michael doesn’t continue. He nods. 

“They punched me. I took almost an hour to walk home ‘cause it hurt so bad. And I was feeling worse because the effects of the coke were wearing off so-” 

“I thought you were only drunk?” 

Michael’s hand trembles where it’s holding Calum’s shirt. 

“They told me I could sleep with them if I did a line or two.” 

Calum’s hand freezes on his arm, and Michael realizes how bad this sounds. 

“Oh Mike,” Calum says softly, lifting Michael’s head so he can look at him. Michael hates the contrite look on his face. “I wish you would have run the other way when they said this.” He frees both of his arms, holds Michael’s face and wipes his tears. Michael really fucking loves him. 

“I know, I was stupid, I’m sorry,” Calum looks like he’s about to disagree with that, but Michael goes on before he can, “I just- they looked so strong, and I wanted someone who could make me forget. I wanted to get back at you for going on your date. I thought you were going to sleep with him.” 

“I- what?” 

“I know, it was stupid-” 

“Stop saying that!” 

“-but I was jealous! You love me, so why would you fuck someone that’s not me?” 

“Because you fucking tell me too!” 

“I know that!” 

They’re both screaming at each other, and Michael remembers that they’re not alone. There’s no sound coming from the bathroom anymore, the whole place buzzing with a heavy silence. 

Calum is still holding Michael’s face delicately, contrasting with the way he’s speaking, though he softens his voice again when he speaks next. 

“You know what to do to stop being jealous.” 

Michael smiles softly, shakily, his hands coming to stroke Calum’s wrists. 

“I know. I’m just scared. You don’t deserve this.” 

“But I’m already in this, my love.” Michael’s heart does something funny at the pet name. Calum gives him a sad smile. “For all intents and purposes, we’re already together.” 

Michael doesn’t know what to say to that, just frowns, because Calum is right, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Calum sighs, gives Michael a long kiss on the forehead before backing away and taking Michael’s hands in his. Calum's is dwarfing his, making him feel small and delicate and _safe_. 

“Okay, how about this?” Calum starts. “We’re gonna get some water in you, get out of Luke and Ashton’ hair and sleep.” Michael grimaces at the thought of sleep. It’s not what he’s craving right now. “I’m gonna stay with you all weekend, and I’m sorry Mikey, but not a drop of alcohol or drug is getting in your system ever again. I know I’ve never done that, but maybe I should have a long time ago. I know you’re gonna hate me for it, but I’ll help you through it.” 

“Cal, you can’t do that to me-” 

“I can. I’ll stay with you, I’ll even take a leave from work so that I can stay with you day and night. You scared me tonight. I’ve always been worried about you, I just always told myself that I met you this way and that it wasn’t my place to change you. But I’ve been thinking about that since you told me that sometimes you wanted to die-” Michael winces at the harsh words, still put out by hearing them out of Calum’s mouth, “-and I realize that I was wrong. I’m your friend, and I’m not going to watch you waste away until you die anymore. I can’t.” 

His eyes are welling up again, but he’s so sure of himself, determination clear in his voice. Michael knows right there and then that he’s gonna see to it that Michael sobers up. It’s scary, and Michael doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know how to be sober. Hasn’t known how since he was seventeen and left to his own devices in the streets after his parents kicked him out of the house when they caught him making out with his boyfriend at the time. 

When he met Calum at nineteen, he was already fucked up. Had been for almost two years straight, and he’d been grateful when they became friends and Calum knew and he didn’t curse him out for it. As time went on he started scolding him whenever he was a bit excessive about it, but he never tried to make him _stop_ before. 

Before Michael can answer, Calum gets up only to come back a minute later with a big glass of water. Michael accepts it gratefully, downs it in record time, and asks for another one. Calum fills it up again, and Michael takes his time drinking this one. His body is still working too slowly, time feeling like it’s going by even more slowly, fucking with his head, but the cool water sliding down his throat feels like it’s helping. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he says, words still slurred but with more intent, when Calum sits back down next to him. “I’d like to do this for you, but I don’t know if I can. And I don’t want to go to rehab. Please don’t make me go.” 

“I won’t if you promise me you’ll try. But it's gonna be okay, I have faith in you. It’s gonna be hard for you, I know that, but this is for the better. And I won’t let you do this on your own.” 

“But you’ll be disappointed if I can’t, and I don’t want to let you down again.” 

“Hey, look at me. I know there’s going to be setbacks, but it’s okay. I’ll still love you, like I always have. You don’t have to worry.” 

Calum gives him a small peck on the corner of his lips, and he’s gone before Michael can register it. Slow brain. 

“And while you get better, you think about us, and what we should be. I’ll wait for you to get back to me on that.” 

And Michael really can’t say no to Calum, and he really fucking loves him, so he agrees. 

* * *

He wishes he hadn’t. 

____

Detox is a bitch. He spends the next two weeks a shivering mess, delirious, having nightmares, his thoughts spiraling all the time, he wants to fucking die, and this time around he tells everyone he sees. Which is mostly Calum, but sometimes Luke and Ashton as well. 

____

All three of them take turns spending time with Michael at Calum’s place so that he’s never on his own, and Michael wants to kill them too sometimes because he can’t get around them to buy more stuff and he feels like he's being smothered. He doesn’t even know why Luke and Ashton are even helping him. They don’t even really know him, and Michael is rarely nice to them. He spends his days screaming at them, insulting them, but they _stay_. They stay and somehow, that’s even worse. 

____

The only person that’s ever stayed is Calum. Even his parents left him. He doesn’t know how to deal with people caring. It’s too much. 

____

On the rare moments where he’s feeling okay, it’s a bit strange. Unusual. There’s nothing coursing through his body and his thoughts are clear, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that either. It happens once when he’s with Luke, and they watch TV together and paint Luke’s nails. Michael tries to do it on him, and he messes it up completely, both because his hands can't stop shaking and because he has no fucking idea what he’s doing. They end up laughing like crazy together, and Michael is taken aback by the feeling of being hysterically happy without it being because of an illicit substance. 

____

He doesn’t have a moment like that with Ashton sadly. Apparently he’s always there when Michael’s at his worst, puking or curling up on himself from the pain in his stomach, so he takes the brunt of Michael’s terrible insults. Ashton keeps telling him it’s okay, makes him some tea when Michael begs him for drugs or a bottle of vodka, and he stays. 

____

But he shares some of those sane moments with Calum and- well. When he’s with Calum Michael doesn’t know what to think. They do the same things they used to do when they would hang out while Michael was on drugs, but it feels so different. He’s so much more aware of every little thing, the way they’re always so close, how often they touch, how butterflies appear in his stomach when they do. What he’s always felt for Calum, he feels tenfold now, and it’s a lot. 

____

It’s a lot, but Michael wants to reach out and kiss him stupid. He wants to tell him “I love you” to make up for all the other days he tells him he hates him, but he doesn’t. Instead, he thinks about it, thinks about how he wants to get better, no matter how awful the process is, and about how he _wants_ to be with Calum. He’s always wanted to, obviously, but he never let himself entertain the thought, scared he would give in if he did. 

____

He could give in now, he thinks. Some days he almost does, it doesn’t matter if he’s feeling crazy or coherent. Because even when he’s just cursing Calum out loud for making him do this, Calum cooks him spaghetti and builds him blanket forts and cuddles him until Michael can’t be bothered to make him go away. 

____

It’s all a lot, and most days are a nightmare because he’s never by himself for a second and seconds feel like hours and days like months, but still Michael is getting better, slowly but surely. 

* * *

____

On Friday of the second week, Michael wakes up to an empty apartment and pins and needles in his extremities, a bit breathless from the nightmare he was having. He can’t recall any images, everything blending into shapes and colours, but the sheer panic he was feeling tells him he was dreaming of _them_ , he has no doubt about it. The clock says it’s past eleven, which makes sense if the sunlight coming through the blinds is any indication. He fists his hands at his side and breathes through his nose the way he’s learned helps, trying to focus on positive thoughts. 

____

Nobody’s gonna be home until at least five this afternoon, exceptionally, and six hours is a long time to be on your own when you’re experiencing withdrawal symptoms. And awful nightmares. Well, technically they’re a withdrawal symptom, he’s pretty sure, but it feels like something more. Right now he wishes he would have been grateful for the days his friends — and he can’t believe he can even say that — are here to offer support and distract him. There’s no one now, though, so he’ll have to make do with… himself. 

____

Okay. He knows how to be by himself. Right? 

____

He goes to the kitchen after taking a hot shower, trying to rid himself of that lingering sensation of being unclean, makes some cinnamon tea and cuts a slice of the cake Ashton made yesterday. He paces around the room as the water is boiling, trying to ignore the tingly feeling in his hands and the chills running through his body despite the four layers of clothing he’s wearing and the apartment being warm enough for the end of March. 

____

Breakfast doesn’t help calm him down as much as he'd hoped, and he knows he promised Calum he’d stay inside, and he intended to honour that promise, he really did, but he feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin again, and he needs to get out. 

____

He doesn’t think too long about it, putting on Calum’s leather jacket and a pair of sneakers before he’s out of the apartment, then the building. He takes a deep breath as soon as he’s out, letting the crispy air grace his lungs. It hurts some, but Michael isn’t that bothered by it, just happy to feel something that isn’t anxiety or panic. 

____

He wanders around the city, losing track of time as he walks streets he’s barely ever seen before. Calum’s part of town is much better than his, more lively and picturesque. It feels safer, as well, and usually Michael doesn’t really care about that, he's been to a lot of shitty places to find cheap drugs, but today he’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about running into anyone suspicious. 

____

He treats himself to a hot cocoa with marshmallows when he feels like he needs to warm up some, body starting to feel the cold more acutely even through his clothes. It works, or maybe he’s just elated to be doing something as mundane as getting a hot beverage in the city by himself at noon, the hot liquid reminding him of cherished childhood moments where his mom would make him hot chocolate with waffles after school. 

____

He smiles to himself as he takes another sip and makes a turn to another street. He rarely thinks of his time before he met Calum, usually too bitter for it to do anything but harm, but today he doesn’t mind. Anything that’s not his mind racing with remnants of his dreams or anxiety, he’ll take. He’s about to change streets again when one particular shop catches his eyes, hidden and embedded in the brick wall. He thinks for a second, wondering if he has enough money to spare on this, then thinks _fuck it_. He can get Calum a nice gift, right? 

* * *

Calum gets home a little after five pm like he said he would, calling out Michael’s name frantically. 

____

“I’m in the kitchen,” Michael answers, and he hears Calum’s footsteps come to him. 

____

“Are you okay, Michael, how was- oh.” 

____

Michael turns around from where he’s at the stove, to a very surprised and confused Calum. 

____

“Are you- are you _cooking_?” 

____

“Yeah it’s something I found in Ashton’s recipe book,” Michael explains. “I wanted to cook it for you.” 

____

Calum’s just standing there in the doorway, eyes bright and mouth agape. It’s understandable. It’s the first time since the beginning of the detox process that Michael’s doing something of his own volition, and that something he’s doing is cooking. He doesn't blame Calum for being confused. 

____

“Come on, go take a shower,” Michael’s voice shakes Calum out of his stupor, “I know it’s a bit early but I haven’t had lunch and this will be ready in about twenty minutes.” 

____

Calum just nods, smiling to himself as he makes his way to the bathroom without a word. Michael stirs the pot one last time before closing the lid, going to set the table. Calum doesn’t have a dining table, so the one in the kitchen will have to do. He takes out the black plates because these are the ones for Special Occasions, and Michael has decided that this is a Special Occasion. It’s a very spur of the moment decision, and maybe tomorrow he’ll be in a foul mood again and regret it, but it feels right. 

____

It’s felt right all afternoon, and it’s made Michael think of Calum instead of his nightmares, and cooking has occupied his hands for a bit, and now they’re as steady as he can hope them to be. Once the table is set, he goes to Calum’s bedroom — which might as well be his too, considering he’s been sleeping here for almost two weeks now — to retrieve what he got Calum. It’s not much, really, just a huge bouquet of flowers that he put together with the nice lady at the flower shop along with a basket of different chocolates she sold. It’s very first date of him, but in the basket is also a murder mystery book that Calum had mentioned wanting to read that Michael found at the market on his way back home. 

____

He wonders when he started calling Calum’s place “home”. 

____

By the time Calum comes back the dish is on the table along with the little present, Michael sat facing the door. Calum stops in the doorway, again, and he mouths “what” as his face scrunches up adorably in confusion. 

____

“Come on, sit down, I’m hungry.” 

____

“No seriously, what is happening? Are you- you’re okay, right? You look okay to me. Really okay even.” 

____

Michael chuckles, blush rising to his cheeks as Calum sits down across from him, eyeing the flowers with something akin to adoration on his face. Michael motions for the basket, and Calum looks at Michael in disbelief when he notices the book before frowning. 

____

“Wait, did you go outside on your own?” 

____

“Don’t get mad,” Michael hurries to say. “I just needed some air because I was getting restless by myself and maybe I was panicking a little. But really, nothing happened. I just walked and drank a hot cocoa and then I just- I bought this for you. And then I got back home, I swear. You can search the apartment.” 

____

“Hey, calm down. I believe you.” Michael sighs in relief. “As long as you were safe.” 

____

“I was, I promise.” 

____

Calum is looking at him fondly, he looks at peace and happy and god, Michael could cry because it’s been such a long time since he made Calum _happy_. He never wants to make Calum cry ever again. 

____

“So, what’s the occasion?” Calum asks when they’ve started eating. It’s pasta with chicken, spinach and pesto, and it took some time to make but according to Calum it tastes wonderful, so he must have done okay. 

____

“What?” 

____

“What’s the occasion?” Calum repeats. “You got me a gift, and you cooked, and you brought out the black plates. Did I miss something?” 

____

Michael sighs. “I just- I wanted to thank you.” 

____

“Thank me?” 

____

“Yeah. For- for everything. But mostly I just-” 

____

He lets out a nervous chuckle, because this was his idea, and there’s absolutely no reason for him to be rejected, but he’s still nervous. He puts his hand palm up on the table, waiting until Calum reaches for it, linking their fingers together. 

____

“I love you. And I think I’m realizing that you’re right. I don’t know if I’m fully ready yet, but I love you, and you love me and neither of us are going to stop anytime soon. And I'm not saying I suddenly understand why you love me so much, because I don't fucking know. But yeah, I was thinking. Maybe we should, hum. Do this. The two of us.” 

____

There’s nothing but silence for a while, and when he looks up he can see tears in Calum’s eyes, a few of them making their way down his cheeks silently. No. No, no, no, he can’t believe he just made Calum cry again, what did he do wrong- 

____

“I’m sorry,” he chokes up as he removes his hand. “I’m sorry, please don’t cry, I’ll take it back.” 

____

“Oh god, no do _not_ take it back, sorry I just-” he cuts himself off, and before Michael has time to blink Calum’s sitting on the table between Micael’s legs, hands tilting Michael’s face upwards so they’re looking each other in the eyes. “These aren’t bad tears, babe. But fuck, I love you so much. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long and I'd lost all hope that it would ever happen.” 

____

“It’s happening now.” 

____

“It is.” 

____

Fresh tears fall down Calum’s face but this time he’s smiling, so hard there're crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and Michael’s in love. He’s so in love he feels it everywhere. He feels it in his hands as he brings them to Calum’s hair to bring his face down to his. In his lips as he slots them against Calum’s in a passionate kiss. In his stomach where butterflies are dancing around relentlessly. In his heart, soaring with love and joy and _Calum_. 

____

He’s not okay yet. He has a long way to go still, and he knows there’s a chance he might fuck everything up, because that’s what he does, and he’s not out of the woods. Just because today ended up being a good one doesn’t mean he’s close to being clean, but he’s going to try. He’s going to try for Calum, and he’s going to try for this thing they’re starting, and he’s going to try for Ashton and Luke. He’s going to try for cold morning walks in the city, and he’s going to try for his job, and for the books he can’t wait to read. 

____

But mostly he’s going to try for himself. Because he’s human, and he’s made mistakes, and because he deserves to live and learn from them. He wants to. 

____

He’s going to live. 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments are much appreciated!! honestly if you made it this far and liked it or just have thoughts about it i would love some feedback because. i am insecure and need validation lol. i would adore you
> 
> as always I'm on tumblr [@jbhmalum](https://jbhmalum.tumblr.com/) if you fancy having a chat


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